


Grass Knuckles

by Emono



Series: Grass Knuckles AU [3]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Falling In Love, Found Family, Grass Knuckles AU, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: George Luz has sought an adventure in the Greener Pastures Ranch. He's ready to write the humanitarian piece of the century about the charity ranch and there he finds more than he'd ever hoped for. Hope, kindness, wide open sky, and love. He's writing not only for the good of the ranch but finds himself penning his own love story. The only question left is - how will it end? Will George's job come between him and Joe or will it be the very thing that brings them together."I dare any person to go there and not fall in love. I know I did."





	1. Chapter 1

**I suppose this is the main story of the series though it's much shorter than the Saw series was.[Here's the thread](http://emono-omae.tumblr.com/tagged/grass-knuckles-au) on my tumblr to get familiar with the Grass Knuckles AU, and I recommend reading "My Sweet Summer" before this but you don't have to. All you have to know is Sledge tells George all about Currahee and they're good friends**

 

* * *

 

 

George arrived in town with a flourish. He nearly threw himself off the train in his excitement, hanging off the railing and taking great gulps of fresh country air.  He was excited to get to the story and dig his teeth into the meat of it. Charity, animals, a real humanitarian piece. It was going to be his ticket to a desk and a more permanent place on the staff. He’d packed his best three piece suits in pastels with lots of white dress shirts. When in the south, do as they do and all that. He wanted to appear as open and friendly as possible to the people Eugene spoke so highly of so he’d left the more serious shades of navy and black back home.

 

George had gotten there pretty early in the day and it hadn’t had a chance to heat up too much. The sun felt good on his cheeks and there was a bit of a breeze. The first place he found was an inn.

 

“Name’s Runner,” the man stated without looking away from the TV mounted on the wall. It was playing some daytime TV drama about housewives and he looked completely immersed. “Fifty bucks a night. No hookers. No drinking on the premises and no drugs.”

 

“No problem. I’m looking for Eugene Sledge and a place called Greener Pastures?” George stated, laying his suitcase down.

 

“No idea where he is, and you’re looking for Grass Knuckles. It’s right up the road.” Runner waved in a general direction. “I could call you a cab?”

 

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your show,” George dismissed. “I’ll find my own way. Can you put this in my room?”

 

“No problem, buddy. But only on commercial.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

He headed back out onto the street much more free without his suitcase. George lit up when he spotted a beautiful woman passing between shops. She had wind-kissed cheeks and blonde hair, all tied back in a blue scarf. There was a basket of pastries hanging from her arm, her dress kicking up in the breeze to show off the matching blue of her stockings. He caught her eyes and she smiled to him, waving.

 

George knew by the end of this trip he was going to be half in love with someone.

 

A simple shop caught his eye. The sign simply read ‘Guns & Pawn’ and there wasn’t much flourish to the windows. He headed inside with an open mind and was surprised to find it empty. There were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of items but the most featured and well displayed were the assortment of guns. It looked well loved but also well organized.

 

“Hello?” George called uncertainly. He jumped at the sound of gunshot and broke into a grin. He could see sunlight pouring in from an open back door. He assumed it was a stock room but he could see a peak of the outside when he craned his head. Feeling daring, he vaulted himself over the counter and headed through the back door. Outside was a courtyard surrounded by a half brick wall. There were targets set up all along the wall and a man stood in the middle of the yard. He had a boot propped up on a milk crate and a hunting rifle strap curled tight around his arm for a steady aim. Short, ruffled dark hair and a sharp, stubbled jaw was all he could see besides the strong plane of his back and the bulge of his thighs.

 

“Hello,” George called.

 

The man looked over his shoulder, a cigarette pinched between his lips. He barely raised a brow before turning back and firing. The shot was perfect.

 

“Dead center. Impressive,” George praised. “I’m George Luz. I’m looking for a friend of mine, Eugene Sledge? And a farm called Greener Pastures?”

 

“He’s probably up there right now,” the man replied, adjusting the scope. “He’s up there nearly everyday for meals. Shifty insists.”

 

“Shifty, huh?” He made a note of the name. “He run the place?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I didn’t catch your name?”

 

“Ron.”

 

The curt replies were sort of amusing. “So _you_ run _this_ place? What do you do here?”

 

“I turnover pawns and sell guns.”

 

“And?” George prompted.

 

“Guns.”

 

George snickered silently. “And?”

 

“ _Guns_.”

 

“And?”

 

Ron put down the hunting rifle and whipped around to glare at him. “Are you serious?”

 

“I can do this all day,” George chuckled behind his hand. “You’re pretty good with that hunting rifle.”

 

Ron flipped the safety on and hefted the rifle up onto his shoulder, plucking out his smoke. “I prefer an assault. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Luz?”

 

“A ride to Greener Pastures would be much appreciated?”

 

Ron gave a long suffering sigh and laid down the rifle. “If you promise never to come back to my shop.”

  
“Double swear. Cross my heart.” He made the motion and the man rolled his eyes.

 

“My truck’s out front.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

It was a bit of a drive but it didn’t seem too hard to find the ranch. Ron refused a tip, stating that not seeing George again anytime soon would be payment enough. The place was simply stunning. It was picturesque - a sky full of rolling clouds and a wooden arch above the lead-in dirt road that read ‘Greener Pastures Ranch’ in iron letters. There were stretches of said fields on either side of the road and he could see plenty of horses with sheep mixed in.

 

George walked the road in awe, drinking in the view and ignoring the dirt scuffing up his shoes. There was a main house towards the end. The property stretched out into two more barns along with several smaller buildings for who knows what. A wheat field was fenced off further on. There was a sprawling mass of a vegetable patch and he couldn’t begin to name everything he saw.

 

“Christ,” George awed. He couldn’t believe what was in front of him. He never thought he’d see something so down to Earth yet so impressive. Looming skyscrapers and winding highways had nothing on this simple beauty. He spotted people as he got closer but they all seemed wrapped up in their work. He searched for the only familiar face he knew from a polaroid a source had given him.

 

Thankfully he spotted him coming out of the main house and put on his most winning smile.

 

“Hello!” George called as he hurried up meet him. “Mr. Powers, good afternoon.”

 

The man’s smile was genuinely polite but there was a curiosity in his eyes. “Don’t think I’m rude for forgetting your name, mister. I’m usually so good for faces.”

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve never met before,” George assured quickly, sticking out his hand. “I’ve just arrived in town. I’m George Luz, I write for the New York Times.”

 

“I’m Darrell Powers. Everyone calls me Shifty,” he replied, shaking his hand with a low whistle. “My word. You’ve come all the way from New York to our little town? Whatever for?”

 

“I’ve heard whispers about your ranch here and I wanted to come see for myself.” George gestured around. “It’s beautiful here, Mr. Powers.”

 

“Well thank you.” There was still a furrow to his brow like he couldn’t figure it out.

 

George chuckled, a little embarrassed but how overwhelmed he’d gotten. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I found out your name and your picture through rumors. I wanted to be sure there was a story here before I made the trip so my friend Eugene Sledge came down to scout out the place.”

 

That made the man’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, Gene! He’s a peach.” He smacked his forehead with a laugh. “For Christ’s sake. Where’s my head? Are you the George he talks about?”

 

“One in the same.”

 

“I must be tuckered out completely if I couldn’t put that together. I’m so sorry.”

 

“He said you were doing ‘God’s work’ down here and I got on a plane the next day,” George babbled, filling with nervous energy. “Long story short, I came to write a piece about your ranch. I want to know everything.”

 

Shifty perked up so fast he was practically sparkling. “Mr. Luz, would you like some tea?”

 

“I would love some.”

 

o0o

 

Joe loved brushing the horses. They were so calm and their blusters were soft as he smoothed out their manes. He pet them down and they responded beautifully every time. This particular mare, Bek, was the most loyal sweetheart he’d ever seen. She kept butting her nose against him and pushing into his hands.

 

“I’m not stopping,” Joe chuckled, brushing more firmly to prove his point. She huffed and pawed the ground a little in content. “That ‘a girl. Spoiled thing, huh?”

  
He bumped his head against her neck and caught a glimpse of a stranger talking to Shifty. The two were having an energetic conversation and his eye was stolen. He hadn’t seen a man like that in quite some time. His clothes were tailored perfectly to show off the slight curve of his waist, colored in shades of white and powder blue that made his tan skin glow. Joe felt his face flush and it wasn’t from the sun. He tugged down the edge of his ball cap to hide his obvious stare and, though he knew he shouldn’t, he kept looking.

 

The stranger was damn handsome. He had dark, fluffy hair that caught the breeze and doe eyes that sparkled in the light. He was slighter without much muscle but there was something captivating and capable about him. He held himself tall and his voice carried even across into the field. The man laughed and he felt his heart skip.

 

Joe’s mouth went dry as he admired how those pants clung to the meaty curve of his ass. He wondered if it was desperation at the sight of a new, pretty face or a genuine attraction. It had been a while but not _that_ long. He didn’t have a lot of opportunity to date all the way out here but there were options. The next city wasn’t obscenely far after all.

 

“Joe! Joe, come here!” Shifty called, waving him over. “Come meet George!”

 

Joe clung to Bek and tried to hide behind her bulk but she betrayed him and backed off. He tried to pretend he didn’t hear him but Shifty gave him that _look_ and he relented. “God damn it.”

 

o0o

 

“This is my partner, Joe Toye,” Shifty gushed as he took the man’s arm and dragged him in front of George. “We split things fifty-fifty. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

 

George knew he was fucked the moment he saw the man. Joe Toye. He was swollen with muscle and had a jawline that could cut glass. An olive complexion with depthless eyes that swallowed up the light. He had a rugged shadow of stubble that did nothing to hide lips the color of well licked candy. In simple terms: He was drop dead handsome.

 

“This is George Luz,” Shifty continued, words popping like excited bubbles as he all but bounced on the balls of his feet. “He wants to write a story about the work we do with the horses. Remember, Gene’s friend he kept mentioning? This is him?”

 

“Is it?” Joe grunted.

 

Shifty nodded eagerly. “He really does write for the New York Times. Isn’t that exciting?”

  
“It’s the biggest thrill of my life,” Joe deadpanned, eyeing up the journalist.

 

George tried not to sigh aloud. _Great, I’ve fallen in love with an asshole._

 

“Why don’t I put on some lunch and-” Shifty cut himself off when he saw Skip Muck whipping up on his four wheeler. “This can’t be good.”

 

“Shit!” Skip cursed as he tugged off his helmet and ran over to them. “Shifty, fuck, there’s a break in the fence at Winters’ ranch and they need some help. Dick asked for you to try and wrangle the cows and horses back up.”

 

Shifty briefly pinched the bridge of his nose but his smile came back as he turned to George. “I’m sorry, this is going to have to wait a while. We’ll have plenty of time to properly sit down, George, I promise you. For now, Joe can give you the run down.”

 

“Wait, me?” Joe floundered, and George couldn’t help but note how cute he looked all flustered. “I should be there with the fence-”

 

“I can come back-”

  
  
“Nonsense,” Shifty dismissed easily. “It’s miles into town and I don’t want you to waste a trip.”

 

“Dick’s been good to us, I really should be out there,” Joe pressed.

 

“And really, it’s no trouble coming back, I’m staying a while,” George assured him.

 

“Dick will have every hand up there helping out. He just knows I’m better with horses than anyone he’s got,” Shifty chuckled, pushing Joe toward the journalist. “Now you two get acquainted. I’ll be back before you know it and I can fill in any details.”

o0o

 

The energy between them was...awkward, to say the least. The air was thick with something George couldn’t place. He didn’t know if Joe had noticed his initial attraction and was disgusted by it or if the man was somehow struggling with his own. It was obvious Joe was one of those types who said very little but George had met men like that before so he did what he did best. He relied on the gift of gab to fill in the silence.

 

It took a while for Joe to open up but as they left the main area of the ranch it became easier. They walked the line of the fence with fresh air on their face and sun on their necks. It was a warm day but George was far from uncomfortable. The smell of the horses was weirdly pleasant - rich earth, fresh grass, the musk of wheat on the breeze.

 

He held out a tape recorder. “Do you mind if I record this?”

 

“Knock yourself out.”

 

George asked his questions at a rhythm and slowly got the answers he’d been looking for. Though in all honesty he found himself enraptured by Joe Toye’s husky bedroom voice and he fumbled with his pen a few times. He learned that Greener Pastures Ranch took in unwanted horses that would otherwise be neglected or killed. Usually horses that were purchased on a whim for spoiled children or horses who had been injured during or aged out of racing. They took in these horses from all over Georgia and even further through word of mouth among farmhands.

 

“Why?” George finally asked, eyeing the man’s tattoos and the fight bite scars shining on his knuckles.

 

“Why not?” Joe shrugged. “Shifty’s always loved horses. The moment I put a brush to one I felt the same way.”

 

“So how did it start?” George pressed gently. “Did you and Shifty grow up together?”

 

“Nah, not a chance. He was born and raised here,” Joe dismissed with a wave, knee knocking against a tall wildflower stock. “I grew up in the city. I was a complete terror in school. I got sent to one of those country retreats by my uncle to learn discipline and all that good crap. Shifty’s aunt was the cook there and he was visiting that summer. We got to talking and...I don’t know. I’d never met a kid that sweet and honest before. He didn’t take shit but - well, you talked to him. You know how he is. I couldn’t bring myself to push a nice kid like that around and Shifty sorta took it as permission to teach me everything. We were inseparable the whole time and we traded numbers after that. Thought my mom was going to fall over in shock when I started writing _letters_.”

 

He snorted at the fond memory and tugged down the brim of his cap. George smiled at the shy gesture. “Anyway. I fell in love with ranch work and the animals. I got a job at the betting place to help take care of the horses to try.”  
  
  
  
“Really? How’d that go?”

 

“How did you think it went?” Joe shot back with a bite. “I watched four perfectly good horses get shot ‘cause they couldn’t race anymore. Broke my fuckin’ heart so I broke the owner’s jaw. Got fired real fast after that.”

 

George had to pick his jaw up before Joe could see his gape. “Oh.”

 

Joe sniffed sharply and brushed his knuckles against his nose, trying to choke back down those memories. “I joined the army for a while but it didn’t work out. Nothing seemed to. Shift called me out of the fucking blue one day with this idea for a ranch to take in unwanted farm animals and I jumped on it.”

 

“Did something happen with him to kind of kick off the idea?”

 

“I think he read a book or something about a hurt horse and he had a nightmare. All I know is that he called me at two AM babbling about how we needed to save all the horses and how God needed a little help watching over ‘em.”

 

“Sounds like some divine inspiration.”

 

“Maybe. It was the best idea I’d ever heard, Craziest, though,” Joe admitted. They came by a part of the fence where a couple horses had gathered, snuffling at wildflowers and bumping casually against one another as they basked in the sunshine. “We started off slow. Shifty found this property real cheap and we got the Winters-Nixon ranch to finance us ‘til we got on our feet. We keep up on enough to feed us, pay the bills, but mostly we rehouse these guys and move them along to good homes. Any of them we can’t move we keep here and give them all the care they need.”

 

George admired the sweet way Joe’s voice curled around the words. He leaned against the fence beside him and let himself indulge in the handsome sight of sunlight against that strong profile. “Do you guys end up keeping a lot of them?”

 

Joe nodded and smiled a little as one of the barn cats slinked their way along the fence to try and get the jump on the robins perched on a haybale. “We’ve had a couple live long, happy lives here. But rehoming is the goal here. We find a lot of good people who want them.”

 

“I’ve never seen one up close before,” George mused, watching a golden mare throw its mane. “They’re actually really beautiful.”

 

“They are, aren’t they?” Joe leaned further on the fence, resting his chin on his fist. “They’re gentle too. They’re prey animals, if you can believe that. They’re real social too. They like to be in a herd. Hell, they _need_ to be or they get real wild. When we don’t have a lot of horses at a time we let the sheep in or the dogs will go through the fence and they end up as little fucked up families. It’s actually pretty cute.” He chuckled to himself and cocked his head toward the journalist. “You know how people think herd animals have an alpha male type running shit? Horses have a mare that takes over the whole show. You can see it sometimes when we get a big group of ‘em here. One mare absolutely takes over and if we have any stallions they’re just happy to be there. Big, dumb, goofy little fucks doing whatever she says.”

Joe stopped laughing when he saw the warmth in the man’s eyes. He could feel his ears burn. “What?”

 

“Wow?”

  
Joe adjusted his hat and tried to put his facade back up. “What?”

 

“Just never expected someone like you to say something like that,” George confessed, thumbing thoughtfully along the edge of the tape recorder.

 

Joe bristled. “Someone like me?”

 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole!” George insisted quickly. He could taste the temper lying beneath the man’s gruff surface. “It’s just strange, I guess, to see a tough city guy like you out here with the horses. It’s a good strange!” He gave a quiet sigh when the man’s shoulders started to relax. “I’d like to get to know how this all works. If you have a website, what ranches you work with, maybe the names of anyone who’s taken in your horses who could give me a quote on how you treated them?”

 

Joe sucked his teeth and his gaze dragged back out to the horses. “Won’t be a problem. We keep tabs and files on everyone we work with.”

 

“Maybe I could talk to your ranch hands?” George asked much more softly, treading lightly. “And this Mr. Winters, if you don’t mind? If he’s your proprietor.”

  
“We don’t need a sugar daddy for the ranch, Mr. Luz.” The words bit out through clenched teeth and George flustered when he realized how badly he’d fucked up. “We trade with him fair and square. We send our hands over when he needs them and he does the same for us. We’re nonprofit and we don’t take handouts. Donations? Sure, what the fuck ever. But we don’t ask nothin’ from anybody.”

 

George held up his hands in surrender and made a show out of clicking off the recorder. He set it down on the post ledge like a white flag. “I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean anything by it. Shit, what do I know, huh? Some fucking city kid.”

 

Joe’s mouth flickered at the corners like he wanted to smile.

 

“So fuck me and my stupid mouth,” George snarked. “Don’t be afraid of telling me to shut the fuck up, alright?”

 

“I’m not scared of you, George Luz,” Joe drawled certainly.

 

George felt relief flood his chest. “Good, that’s how it should be.”

 

Joe pushed off the fence with a grunt. “You’re welcome to stay in the main house with us. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

 

“I couldn’t impose,” George protested, sounding so very much like Sledge.

 

“Shift’s going to insist it,” Joe countered. “He’ll want to cook for you and show you around. It’s bad enough Sledgehammer is staying at Runner’s place in town. Shift’s not going to let another pretty boy get away. Come on, let’s check on the horses.”

 

“Sledgehammer?” George parroted at Toye’s back, blushing hot as the man walked away. “ _Pretty boy_? Wait, Mr. Toye-”

 

“Joe,” the owner called insistently over his shoulder. “Keep up,”

 

o0o

 

George was glad he had brought so many tapes. The names of all the hands swirled in his head along with all their babble through dinner. He’d learned so much in such a short time it was almost too much. It was amazing but he was exhausted. A trip to town sounded like a nightmare in the dark and Shifty eventually broke him down with his sweet insistence. Against his better judgement, he agreed to stay. His stuff wouldn’t come until tomorrow but he didn’t mind.

 

Especially when that handsome fuck Joe Toye offered him his own clothes to sleep in.

 

George lingered in the bathroom long after he was done cleaning up and brushing with a spare toothbrush. Apparently Joe had the whole upstairs to himself and that’s where he’d been offered the spare room, though he was sure he saw a second spare room on the first floor next to Shifty’s room. George was far from complaining. It was strangely intimate to use Joe’s shampoo and soap but he couldn’t complain when he smelled like a mixture of sandalwood and clean sheets.

 

He couldn’t stop touching the clothes. They were simple but loose on his body, the tank top worn threadbare like it was well loved. The shorts he’d been given had been cut off above the knee on Joe but they fell below his own and were stained in dark green paint with flecks of red. He looked…like he’d been here forever, like he belonged. Like wearing Joe’s clothes was only a prelude to slipping into the man’s bed.

 

George smoothed his palm over his stomach and wondered why his heart was racing.

 

When he finally shook off the weird flutters, George headed to the bedroom he’d be staying in. He tripped up in the doorway when he saw Joe finishing up making the bed.

 

“I don’t get domestic for just anyone,” Joe huffed, dumping the stale sheets and pillow cases into a laundry basket. He picked it up and set it on his hip. “Feel free to go anywhere on the ranch. Best stay away from some of the horses until Shifty gives you the rundown on how to be around them. Otherwise, besides our rooms, go wherever you want. The guys are constantly heading into town if you need a ride. They seem to like you, especially Skip. You ever ride a four wheeler?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Well get used to it, all the boys have one and the property is huge,” Joe informed him, looking around in case he’d missed something before heading toward the door. “We get up pretty early around here.”

 

“If I smell coffee, I’m up,” George promised.

 

“There’s plenty of that to go around,” Joe snorted in amusement. “Shift’s real excited to give you all the story you’ll need so get some sleep. I’m right down the hall if you need anything. Try not to get lost. You saw how big the house is. Some days me and Shift don’t even see each other.”

 

As usual, George couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What happens when one of you wants to get busy?”

 

Joe’s grin was predatory and he felt a bolt of warmth shoot down between his thighs. “Like I said, big place. These doors are thick. See you in the morning.”

 

George was glad to have the door shut between him because he could feel his cheeks burning. Damn that man and his sharp jaw, those dark eyes, that dominant nature that just made him weak in the knees. It had been a while since someone had given him butterflies, man or woman. Hell, his last girlfriend didn’t get him going this easy and he’d had it bad for her. His stomach was all twisted up and his chest was tight, his cheeks and ears and even his neck blood was hot just from being under Joe’s attention. He was hitting all the buttons George hadn’t really been aware he had. Strong, certain, handsome, a soft center under a gruff voice. It was all just doing it for him and he kind of hated Sledge for not warning him about Joe-fucking-Toye.

 

He had so much to do. He should’ve been going over tapes and start his notes, review what he’d learned. Instead George felt his hand slide down his stomach. He let out a breathy, pathetic noise as he palmed his half hard cock through his shorts. _Joe’s_ shorts.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed, eyes screwed shut. “What the fuck am I doing?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this took so long!! I'm really proud of this chapter but the sex scene took me eons to write. This is really wordy and kinda overly romantic, riddled with purple prose and metaphors and all that. So brace yourself for that. I really really REALLY hope you guys enjoy this and I would appreciate feedback so much.

George had went to the far horse field to prepare to interview the hands but they were nowhere to be seen. He frowned and looked back to the main house, wondering if Shifty had sent him to the wrong place, but when one of the horses trotted away he realized there was one man standing in the fenced off area.

 

“Joe!” George called, putting on a smile and trying not to remember how he’d jerked off to the thought of being under the man whose clothes he’d worn to bed. The man knocked back his cap a little and waved. “Where are your hands at? I wanted to ask them some questions.”

 

“They’re doing a beer run for tonight.” Joe leaned against the horse for a moment, failing to hide a sudden grin. “Why don’t you come over here?”

 

George eyed the mare with trepidation. “Uh, there?”

 

“You’re going to need to get used to them. Might as well be with me. Or are you scared of a gentle thing like Bek here?” Joe challenged. “Are you chicken shit, New York?”

 

“I’ll show you fucking chicken shit, you fucking hick,” George growled to himself as he took off his jacket. He laid it over the fence and undid his cuffs to start rolling up his sleeves. While he made sure the fabric tucked up well above his elbows, Joe was trying to smother himself in Bek’s mane.

 

“Fuck, fuck,” Joe cursed under his breath. “I didn’t think he’d do it. What do I do?”

 

Bek snuffed and her ears flicked, pushing back into his touch. Something in her eyes was judgemental and fondly exasperated and he groaned, laying his head on her and scrunching up his hat.

 

“Fat lot of help you are.”

 

George hopped the fence with a wobbly, graceless landing. He managed to stay on his feet and took confident strides over to where the man was standing. As he got closer he realized that there were plenty of horses in the field, plus the occasional stray dog or goat, and he started to slow his nerves. He’d never really been around animals much and he wasn’t sure what they considered aggressive. He tried not to let it show on his face though. He wanted to impress Joe and losing his shit over a neigh was not the way to go.

 

“She doesn’t bite, right? Horses don’t usually bite?” George babbled. “I mean, they’ve got teeth and they can probably fuck up my arm if they tried hard enough. They wouldn’t do that if I’m with you, right?”

 

“For Christ’s sake, Luz, what are you worried about? Her name is Rebekah Buttercream, if that helps,” Joe teased, holding out his hand. “Come here.”

 

“That’s a weird name for a horse.”

 

“Ron’s niece named her.” Joe gestured him closer, fingers still extended. “You trust me, don’t you?”

 

George’s mouth felt a little dry but still he nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Then come here.”

 

George took the man’s hand and felt a bit of a shock as calloused fingers slid along his own. The touch stole his breath and in his surprise he was pulled forward and spun around. He landed with a soft thump against Joe’s chest. George’s cheeks flared red as he felt the wall of solid muscle and was glad he was facing away so he could hide the tell-tale blush. Unfortunately that put him right up, face-to-neck, with the horse so he was stuck between a mild fear and a hard place.

 

Joe was saying something but he couldn’t hear much past the rush of blood in his ears. Joe was just so _much_ and so _close_. Tan and filthy, worn jeans and scars and gruff and everything out of his western daydreams. One of those hands came up and took his own and he swore he was going to choke or drool or do something else embarrassing. They were pressed flush and he was so _warm_.

 

“There we go.” Joe’s breath tickled his nape and he shivered. He guided his hand up to lay along Bek’s neck, coarse hair catching along their laced fingers. He idly watched Joe’s other hand come up to feed Bek a treat straight from his palm. “See? She’s real sweet when you’re gentle.”

 

“Yeah,” George choked past a tight throat. Bek really was being good under their hands, shifting a little but otherwise munching and flicking her tail like this was normal.  He didn’t know how to read the situation without offending Joe but this felt a hell of a lot like flirting. He tried to focus on Bek and let himself pet her. She didn’t rear away and his confidence came trickling back in. He smoothed her mane and glided his palm up along her throat, laughing when she pushed into it.

 

He almost missed the way Joe shifted against him, pressing tighter.

 

“Wow, they’re really beautiful,” George murmured, catching Bek’s eye and smiling. “It’s amazing what you’re doing here, Joe.”

 

George was too busy cooing at Bek to see Joe’s proud grin or the way his ears turned a little pink.

 

They both jumped when someone wolf whistled. Their heads whipped around in time to see Floyd “Tab” Talbert from the Winters Ranch hiking himself up on the fence. He was grinning ear to ear and looking way too pleased with himself. In the middle of hooting, his foot slipped and he tumbled face first into the muddy grass.

 

Joe cackled in delight and George couldn’t help but join in.

 

o0o0o0o

 

George spent a lot of time with Shifty talking about clients or discussing the inner workings of the ranch, but Joe seemed to always be in his peripheral. The more he was around Joe the less blood rushed south and the more his heart went _thumpathumpa_. Okay, that was a lie, the sight of Joe Toye sweating and shirtless in the sun made his dick hard, but it wasn’t the most _important_ thing.

 

Though it took about a week of persistence and charming smiles, Joe seemed to be warming up to him. The conversation started to go three ways at meals and he didn’t feel so much like a bother when he sought Joe out. In fact, after letting him borrow some more clothes, Joe seemed more than happy to show him how the ranch worked. Most of the time George would perch himself on the fence or a hay bale or some other flat surface and ask questions while Joe worked.

 

Watching the man’s shoulders bunch and pull, watching the sweat drip down his spine, seeing the way his lips curled around a bottle of water and how beads escaped to trace the flat planes of his chest...it was a religious experience. But talking to him and getting to know the man behind the muscle became more valuable, more precious.

 

Joe was a funny guy when he let himself go a little. Making him laugh felt like the greatest accomplishment. He had these faint dimples that popped when he truly smiled and George’s heart fluttered whenever he got to see them. That rough silk-over-gravel voice grew softer the longer he spoke, still strong but rounded by familiarity and humor. It was a privilege that he didn’t abuse.  
  
  


They came together more often as the days went on. George would get up earlier to watch Joe cook breakfast, they’d head out to see the chickens, brush down the horses and feed them; all the normal chores that George had never considered before. He thought it was a coincidence at first that the other hands seemed to be out of earshot most of the time but he quickly caught on to the fact Shifty was pointedly shuffling them away.

 

It seemed they had their very own matchmaker.

 

o0o

 

“So why do the locals call your ranch ‘Grass Knuckles’?”

 

“How ‘bout I show you instead?”

 

George didn’t know what he was getting into. There was one gym in town run by a lanky guy named Pat who had a grin full of teeth but eyes sharp as steel. George gave him a wide berth and followed Joe inside. There were two rings set up in the building and they’d laid claim to one. Much to his surprise, Joe had emerged from the changing room with taped hands and pads for him to hold.

 

“Shit!” George coughed as he felt Joe’s punch through the pad strapped to his chest. His hands were encased in padded mitts to catch Joe’s hits but even they were numb. Joe was just starting to break a sweat and George felt like he was going to collapse just from second hand blows.

 

“You alright?” Joe teased, bouncing on his heels and hands still ready. George quickly threw his own hands back up and tried to brace himself but the next blow knocked his arm back.

 

“Hey!” George whined as the man laughed at him. “You’re mauling me, here.”  
  
  
  
“That was slow motion with half power,” Joe snorted though he backed off to give him a chance to catch his breath. “Sorry. Guess I don’t know my own strength anymore.”

 

“You’ve got plenty to go around, buddy,” George griped good naturedly, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache out of them. “So what? They joke about the name because of this?”

 

“I boxed semi-professionally for a while,” Joe said like it was no big deal, grabbing a towel off the ropes and wiping his face. George tried not to smile as he saw how beautifully flushed those high cheeks were but it was hard when his heart was doing somersaults. “I got socked in the jaw one too many times and decided to call it quits while I still had all my teeth. Plus Ma was crying all the time about it, said I was going to knock my brain loose, so it was easy to walk away.”

 

“Does she like this?” George asked, gesturing vaguely.

 

“She loves it,” Joe chuckled. “She comes up every summer. Her and Shifty’s mom take turns cooking for us when they visit and we take them out on the horses. Everyone loves them.”

 

“That’s so sweet,” George awed, quickly switching gears when he realized how sappy and yearning he sounded. “You were probably a pretty damn good boxer back in the day, Toye.”

 

“Back in the day?” Joe scoffed. George wasn’t expecting the chest punch nor the power behind it. He felt his breath rush out of him and it didn’t exactly hurt but it knocked him right off his feet. His arms flailed wildly in the air and he hit the ring with an echoing thud. An ache bloomed in his ass and shoulders but he was too busy blinking up at the lights to care.

 

“Oh shit!” Joe laughed, torn between concerned and darkly amused. He knelt beside the reporter and swallowed down his snickering to offer him his hand. “Are you okay? I didn’t think it’d knock you over.”

 

“You’re such a dick.”

 

“Come here,” Joe tried to soothe as he helped him sit up.

 

George melted under the man’s hands as he rubbed along his back and searched his hair for any wound. He leaned into it with a hum and for a moment he swore he saw Joe smile in that soft, sweet way he smiled at the horses.

 

o0o0o0o

 

Though George insisted and borrowed old clothes from both ranch owners, Joe didn’t let him do too much heavy lifting. The man was strangely protective of him in a flattering way that made George’s stomach do that flippy thing more often than not. He kept saying he trusted him but he didn’t want him to get hurt. That evening in particular, George and Malark had to go after the chickens when they escaped the big hutch. He was feeling it in his thighs and lower back from all the squatting and lunging. He had dirt under his nails and in his hair from diving after the fast fuckers and the clothes he’d borrowed from Joe were filthy. Thankfully, they were ripped jeans and a sleeveless old t-shirt that was a size too big so he didn’t feel so bad.

 

George flopped onto the two person, cushioned porch swing and relaxed. He flexed his bare toes and wondered how many blisters he’d have by the end of the story.

 

He hissed and jumped as something ice cold touched his arm. George’s eyes snapped open as he startled but he quickly composed himself when he saw it was Joe grinning down at him. He had two open beers in his hand, one insistently digging into his arm.

 

“Want one?”

 

“Hell yeah.”

 

Joe sat down beside him and handed it over. They clinked glasses with a little nod and drank. George groaned at the first cool mouthful and hoped it chilled the little flush on his cheeks from how close Joe was sitting. The man’s booted foot started to move against the porch and set a gentle motion of the swing. The starry sky stretched out wide in front of them undisturbed by city lights. It was a sight he’d never witnessed and it put a strange sense of ease in his chest.

 

“You look good in my clothes,” Joe confessed lowly, words half swallowed by the beer bottle.

 

George’s breath caught in his chest and a smile bloomed across his tired face. “Better than you do.”

 

Their knees knocked together when Joe scoffed and stayed there. The touch was a brighter point of contact than any star and George choked up a little at the quiet intimacy of it.

 

“You gotta’ be tired.” Joe shook out a pack of smokes. “You staying up?”

 

“Yeah,” George conceded. “I’m tired but it’s fucking beautiful out here. Need a light?”

 

Joe nodded and George fished out his lighter. He popped the lid and flicked the wheel, a flame springing to life. He did it as more of a test to see if there was fluid in it and was about to flick it shut and hand it over, but Joe stopped him. Joe took him by the wrist and cupped the flame with the other. He leaned in close and sucked off the flame. George swallowed thickly as liquid heat bubbled low in his stomach but he managed to keep his hand steady.

 

Joe took a few puffs before pinching it between his fingers and offering it. “Want one?”

 

“Uh, sure.” His voice wavered but he accepted the smoke. They were so close, thighs nearly pressing now as he put it to his mouth. He imagined he could still taste the whisper of Joe’s lips. Joe took out another smoke and wiggled it pointedly.

 

This wasn’t just intimacy, this was _flirting_.

 

George flicked up another flame. He swallowed down a gasp as Joe blanketed his hand and pulled him in just that much closer. The man leaned down and he met that dark gaze head on, refusing to flinch. What he took for a challenge was merely a heated tease and raven lashes fell low as the cigarette hit the flame. Joe pulled in the heat and the ember cast an orange glow into the hollow of his cheeks. It reflected off his lashes and bounced off the full curve of his lower lip, catching in every line of his bold features and giving an ethereal air to moment.

 

Joe looked taken by something age-old and _hungry_. It was not something George would soon forget.

 

o0o

 

Joe felt like giggling he was so excited, but he kept face as best he could. He plopped down in the grass and put the wiggling box behind him. George had already spotted him and was making his way over but he waved him on anyway. He’d seen the reporter fawning all over the few baby animals they had and he’d been thinking about this surprise since their sow started showing signs of birthing pains three nights ago. Joe had stayed up all night with her and her litter to help through the birth and to make sure everyone made it. He’d kept them warm and dry, made sure they’d fed, and had woken up in a pile of hay nearby to the rising sun.

 

And he’d kept it a secret ever since in hopes of...well, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. His plan was solid but his desire was shaky. All he could really think of George’s beaming smile and contagious laugh. With this boxed surprise, Joe hoped to give him a little joy.

 

Joe was almost a little too distracted by how good George looked in Shifty’s old jeans to hear him but caught on when he started saying his name. “Joe? Anyone in there?”  


  
Joe’s eyes snapped up to the man’s curious smile. “I’ve got something to show you.”

 

“Is it my forty bucks from poker?” George asked. “ ‘Cause I’m convinced you cheated.”

 

Joe snorted as he remembered their card game the night before. A lot of the hands had come and it had come down to him, Tab, George, and Skip in the end. George was skilled and good at distracting people but Joe had a poker face that couldn’t be cracked. Skip had nervous fingers and Tab had a tell where he played with his lower lip when he had a bad hand so they got knocked out. In the end, it had been Joe against George and he’d come out with the pot.

 

“You’re a sore loser.” Joe kicked out his legs and patted the space between him. “Come here.”  
  


George went pink across the bridge of his nose and Joe repressed the urge to kiss along it. “What? Right there?”

 

“Get the fuck down here already,” Joe griped, leaning in enough to snatch his leg and tug it. George made a big show of rolling his eyes but went with the pull and dropped to the grass. Joe felt bold as he grabbed the reporter’s waist and dragged him closer. He caught a whiff of his own shampoo in the man’s fluffy hair and his heart felt like it skipped up against his ribs. He couldn’t deny his growing attraction to George. Even if he tried it’d be dashed by tingles that shot through him when George’s back pressed against his chest. Their legs were flush and his arm fit almost too perfectly around his waist.

 

And the way George’s breath hitched went straight to his cock.

 

“Didn’t think you were the cuddling type,” George chuckled, nerves laced into every word.

 

Joe easily scooped up the crate behind him and slid it into the man’s lap. “Check this out.”

 

George jumped when he felt it move. “Is it a snake? I fucking _hate_ snakes, Joe.”   


  
Joe groaned and rolled his eyes. “Just open it, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Jeeze. _Pushy_. Alright, alright, I’m doing it,” George griped through a smile as he popped open the lid. It hit the grass and Joe sort of held his breath as he waited for a reaction. George was oddly silent but the piglet in the crate started snorting up at the sunlight, eager to see what stranger was looking at him. She wasn’t the traditional color people associated with pigs. She was black and tan like her mother, spotted, with a carnation pink nose that was turned curiously toward George.

 

“She’s only a couple days old,” Joe said just to break the silence. He was ready to pull away and admit the whole thing was a stupid idea when George suddenly squealed. He scooped up the piglet and knocked away the box to cradle her between his palms. She wiggled a little and grunted but settled as he started to pet her. Joe was surprised at George’s sure grip on her as he scrubbed his thumb between her temple and ear, fingers rubbing little circles along her chest and throat. The reporter had been so hesitant with the animals, like he’d been afraid to break them, but suddenly he seemed confident.

 

“Look at her little ears,” George crooned. The piglet closed her eyes and started letting out softer, content grunts. “You’re a happy girl, aren’t you? Prettiest little _bebé_."

 

"Why'd you call her that?"  
  
  
  
"My grandma called everything small and cute that," George hummed, rubbing his nose against the top of her head. "You’re so good, yes you are. Good little pig.”

 

“Here,” Joe urged, flush with accomplishment as he wound his arms around the man. He guided George’s fingers to the sweet spot on her stomach and together they rubbed gently to make her kick her back feet. “They love that.”

 

“She’s beautiful,” George whispered, leaning back into him. Joe breathed in the scent of his hair, the fresh sweat between his shoulders, the smell of laundry soap mixed with sunshine. “Are there more?”

 

“There’s a whole litter.”

 

“Is it okay if I see them?” George asked with that same quiet excitement. “Unless the mom would get pissed?”

 

“Nah, she’s good with people. We can see ‘em now if you want.”

 

George nodded eagerly and Joe wondered what would happen if he kissed him right there. But then the piglet squeaked and George laughed and the moment shifted.

 

Maybe one day.

 

o0o

 

George liked Joe’s truck. It was beat up and needed a paint job but it had character and a wide cab. There was plenty of room to stretch out as they drove along the back roads around Currahee. He didn't know how far they were from the ranch or town but they’d been out here for a few hours. He’d told Joe he wanted some one on one interview time with him but all professional pretense had been dashed when they ate together at the diner. Joe had taken the same bench as him and they’d spent the meal with Joe’s arm thrown the back of his seat.

 

It was late into the night, especially for a rancher, but George was drinking up the stars and dirt road like it was the last time he’d see such things. He was asking a few questions but it was more about listening and learning about Joe than the article. The newspaper was far from his mind out here in Currahee. They took a turn and in just a few feet it was corn on both sides. It didn’t look like it ended anytime soon and it should’ve freaked him out but it felt sort of like a privacy veil.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re the oldest?”

 

“The oldest brother,” Joe explained. “I’ve got two older sisters. I’ve got younger sister and brother. It’s a big family.”

 

“Wow, a lot of little knuckleheads,” George snickered. “I bet you were a handful.”

 

“My Ma didn’t know what she was getting in to. Pop worked every job he could to keep food on the table though. They did their best. We’re all pretty good kids now,” Joe admitted, hand curled lazily around the wheel as he glanced over at him. “What about you? You seem like a younger brother.”

 

“That obvious, huh?” George tilted his head back against the seat, smiling out the window. “Yeah. I’m the baby out of five.”

 

Joe could see something on the man’s upturned face. “You’ve gotta be loud to be heard in a family that big. Guess becoming a big shot journalist is one way to get noticed.”

 

“They love me.” George’s soft tone plucked at his heartstrings. “Just a lot of kids to love, you know?”  
  
  
  
“I know,” Joe assured him, dropping a hand down onto the man’s knee and squeezing. George rolled his head over and smiled and he hoped his returning grin didn’t come off lovestruck. “How long have you been doing this writing thing?”

 

“About three years now.”

 

“Hell, that’s how long we’ve been here.”  
  


George picked his head up with sudden curiosity. “Yeah? I was wondering if it was just you and Shifty at first or if you roped some of these guys into helping you out?”

 

“We were a house and two horses when me and Shift started this thing.” Joe reluctantly let go of the man’s knee to swerve around a pothole. “The hands found us on their own. Vagabonds, drifters, that old west shit. They didn’t have a place to go so somehow they found us. Snafu came all the way from Louisiana from some backswamp place he doesn’t like to talk about. He didn’t want to end up on a boat in the mud for the rest of his life so we gave him a place. Skip’s family grew up here and he was a great help. Penk’s family moved here when he was a teenager and apparently Skip took to him like they were born in the same barn.”

 

“And Malarkey?”

 

“He was looking for work and he’d been turned away everywhere else. He had a bad smoking problem, ya’ know?” Joe gave him a pointed look and George made a soft ‘oh’. “Friend said this was a good place to get sober and make some money. He showed up, Penk and Skip took him under their wing, and before anyone knew it they were fused at the hip. They’ve been plotting some kind of upstart business and I wished them all the best. Told them if they needed some startup money, we’re here for them.”

 

George felt a lump in his throat but it was a good kind of tightness. “You guys are real good to them.”

 

“Shit, they’re good to _us_ ,” Joe insisted. “We give them everything we can and they give us twice back. Those guys in the field...hell, I couldn’t ask for any better.”

 

“And Tab? I keep seeing him.”

 

“He just comes to fuck around with the guys. He lives on the Winters Ranch. He’s one of their hands. He’s from California. Between our ranches, we’ve got people from all over.” He flashed a toothy smirk at George and enjoyed the way he squirmed. “None of them as pretty as you though.”

 

George rubbed his cheeks to hide the flush that bloomed there but Joe wasn’t ready to let it go. He started to say something else but was cut off by a distinctive _whoop_. Red and blue lights flashed behind them. They both looked to the speedometer and saw they were indeed speeding.

 

“That pig fucker,” Joe snarled. George choked on a laugh. “That’s probably Cobb. He’s some upshot deputy who has it out for my ass. Sid’s a good sheriff, don’t get me wrong, but Cobb is such a piece of shit.” He turned in his seat enough to briefly squint out the back window. “He tried to get on at the ranch and I told him to fuck off.”

 

“Uh, we should probably pull over,” George suggested. “I don’t think he’s letting up.”

 

Joe’s jaw ticked under his skin as his knuckles went white around the steering wheel. He took a steady breath before flipping off the headlights. “Fuck that.”

 

“Joe?” George jolted against the door as the truck suddenly whipped off the road and hit the cornstalks. “ _Joe!_ ”

 

Joe’s grin was borderline manic. “Hold on, buttercup!”

 

“You fucker!” George screamed as he clung to the seat. His hand shot up to the ceiling and he clawed holes in the felt as they tore through the corn. Stalks whipped at him through the open window and stung his arm but Joe’s bark of joy soothed it like a balm. Chilly night air kissed his face and he could see fragments of the stars between whipping stalks. Whoever Cobb was he was following as closely as he could in a cruiser that was poorly built for cornfield romping.

 

George didn’t know what happened but his terrified cries turned into howls of glee. He cackled like mad as they ripped blindly through the field

 

“Faster, faster!” George chanted, kicking his feet up on the dash and bracing himself as Joe took a sudden, hard turn.

 

“I’ll show you faster, babe. Hang the fuck on.”  
  


They whipped out of the corn and through a cloud of trees. They fishtailed for a moment on a patch of wet underbrush but Joe guided them to packed dirt. The trees got thicker as they sped half blind on the twisty road. Joe seemed to know exactly where he was going without having to look and George crowed as he held onto the seat for dear life.

 

Joe cut a hard left and dumped them off the road into a half clearing. He made sure they were behind a line of trees before killing the engine. “Get down!”

 

They threw themselves down onto the seat and strained their necks to watch for lights. There was a ruckus of crashing branches and tires on gravel, the roar of an engine, and then the dual flash of lights. Cobb didn’t even touch the brakes as he sped past them. Shaky, adrenaline fueled giggles escaped them both as they sat up. They shared ear-to-ear grins and tipped their heads toward one another, both planning to say something about how stupid and dangerous that was.

 

Yet the moment stretched on.

 

The air was heavy with something George couldn’t put his finger on. The truck smelled like Joe - grass, dirt, musk that was undeniably male. His eyes raked over the man and he felt heat swell up between his legs. Every inch of Joe was tone and laced with muscle from years of hard work. He looked capable and tough but he’d seen him be gentle. Joe was so sweet with the horses, with the sheep, even with the other guys. He’d watched Joe handle vegetables like they’d break and gather wildflowers up into that ugly watercan urn that Shifty loved so much just to see his friend smile. Joe was vastly more complex than he’d first guessed and George’s initial physical interest had deepened to something more.

 

And that _something_ was getting restless.

 

George didn’t know what the hell he was doing when he kissed him but it was happening before he could check himself. It was a sudden touch of lips, chaste and quick, but it sent shivers all down his back. He jerked back as soon as he realized what a huge mistake he might’ve made. “Ah shit.”

 

Joe looked delighted and his smile reached his eyes. They glittered even in the dark but the moon bounced off the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw, catching on his teeth when he grinned. “Wow, Georgie, wasn’t expecting that.”

 

“Joe, I-”

 

“And here I thought I was wasting my time.”

 

George’s mouth worked uselessly for a few moments before he managed to scrape together his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Joe threw his worn cap onto the dash and snatched George by the hair, pulling him closer slow enough that he could back out if he wanted. That was the _last_ thing George wanted. He threw himself head first into it and nearly crushed their noses. Joe laughed but it was a sweet sound as he laced his fingers in his hair and slid their mouths together.

 

George hadn’t necked in a car since he was a teenager but it was quickly heading that way. Neither of them could keep their hands still as they kissed. Fingers tangled in hair, sliding along shoulders, skimming under shirts in search of warm skin. His knuckles brushed along Joe’s hip as the man’s fingers fanned across his stomach. It quivered beneath the touch and he licked into Joe’s mouth to get some semblance of control. He felt so shaky, so nervous, but so _wanting_.

 

Joe felt George’s cock brush against his thigh. He could feel the man’s need even through two layers of denim and it sparked a fresh fire in his chest. He could taste George’s nerves and he could feel his own ribs trembling in anticipation and worry. He didn’t want to fuck things up but for the first time in a long time he wanted this. He wanted to be close to someone, to _George_. He wanted that clever mouth and those soft hands on him, to peel away the suits and worship him.

 

Joe grabbed fistfuls of that powder blue vest and muscled him back until his shoulder hit the car door. The truck had wide seats and plenty of room for them to desperately rut without driving a knee or elbow into a sternum. Joe crawled up close and wedged one leg between George’s, the other foot falling to the floor for leverage.

 

Their kisses were messy but they couldn’t stop. All the yearning from the past few weeks had finally broken free and they couldn’t give it up. They broke with a sloppy, wet sound as Joe’s fingers started going for the buttons of his vest. They panted into each other’s mouths as Joe tried to put two thoughts together. “Is this okay?”

 

George took a second to catch up but he quickly nodded when he realized what he was asking. Full lips blazed a path down his throat, seeking and kneading every spot that dragged a sound out of him. He could feel his vest give and his dress shirt followed, pearly buttons obeying Joe’s every tug.

 

“Been waiting a while to get my hands on these,” Joe husked against his pulse.

 

The admission made George shiver. He felt a new boldness hit him and the nerves evaporated. He licked his lips and braced his palms on the seat and window so he could push out his chest. It was Joe’s turn to make a noise and it went straight to his cock. “You been thinking about this?”

 

“Fuck yes,” Joe growled just under his jaw, nipping hard as he slid a hand along his lower back. George whined as he was raised on pure strength so Joe could duck down to get fully at his chest. He didn’t expect the feather light kisses and when teeth caught a hard bud he swore he felt lightning in his fingertips.

 

All the sweet, strained noises that came out of George’s mouth went straight to Joe’s dick. He’d thought about George’s chest since he saw the man swaddled in pastel. He’d been wondering almost obsessively if his nipples were the same velvet pink George preferred and it felt like a gift to discover they were. They were flushing and growing warm under his teeth as he enjoyed their give, the taste of his own soap and something so purely human. George was so responsive, so _alive_ , and he knew they were both lost to whatever had been building behind their friendship.

 

“So Goddamn pretty,” Joe breathed against his swollen nipple, kissing it in apology.

 

“Shit, Joe, you’re trying to kill me,” George huffed on a laugh, smiling as kisses trailed down his stomach. There was a faint tickle at happy trial, a scrape of teeth at his belly button, and then fingers were working open his fly. He met Joe’s eyes and there was a question there, a hesitance, and he nodded as he shrugged off his layers. The seat was worn and smooth under his back, the window warming as they panted up a fog that hid them from the dark cornfield. The moon was hitting the driver’s window in a way that had beams spilling over Joe’s shoulders, casting shadows that only enhanced how fucking beautiful he was.

 

“Please.”

 

“You don’t gotta’ beg me, beautiful.”

 

George knew he should’ve been ashamed at how hard he already was. He could see the obscene bulge in his boxer briefs when Joe tugged open his fly, could feel the way he obviously twitched when the men blew over the growing wet spot. He was sensitive and tingling all over but still he was distracted by how gorgeous Joe looked with the moon dipping into the hollow of his cheeks, slashing across his eyes, highlighting every silvery scar and swell of muscle.

 

He hoped this wasn’t a one time thing. He couldn’t have known Joe was thinking the same thing as he slid down his underwear.

 

“Oh _fuck_.”

 

“Shhshh, I got you.”

 

Joe was a little relieved to find that George’s cock was the perfect size for sucking. It had been a while and he knew he was rusty. He wanted to make this good enough that George came back for seconds. He didn’t want to blow his one chance. Grinning at his own pun, Joe finally got his lips around the man he’d been fantasizing about.

 

George tried to swallow back his whine but it was useless. He clawed hopelessly at the window and dug his heels into the seat for purchase. It didn’t help steady him. Joe’s mouth was liquid heat and tight pressure. He wasn’t sure if it had been a while or if Joe was just that fucking good or maybe it was just because it was _Joe_ but it didn’t matter. His hips jumped with each suck and drag, goosebumps cropping up along his chest and hips as pleasure zinged through his limbs. A hand cupped his ass, fingers curling along the cheek just grazing his hole. He whimpered and drove forward between Joe’s lips, another hand catching his hip to hold him just where he wanted. He wasn’t the one in control here and he didn’t care.

 

“That feels...Christ, Joe that Goddamn _mouth_ of yours.”

 

Though his mouth was full, Joe managed a grin as he heard the man’s head thunk against the window while he let out all those pretty moans. George’s cock was blood hot and slid easily along his tongue. He tried to remember all the tricks he liked - hollowing his cheeks, keeping his licks firm, sucking tight every time he drew up for a breath. But it all fell away as he enjoyed himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so into pleasing his partner, excited to draw out their noises and feel them quiver under his hands. George’s plump little ass fit in his palms and he loved how George squirmed as he tried not to choke him. Joe read his body and moved with him, giving everything but never taking too much. It was such a simple desire to want George to feel good but it was powerful. He suckled at the head and watched George’s face screw up in painful ecstasy, teeth catching his swollen lip like he was he was trying not scream. Every heave for breath made Joe remember those nipples and how they begged for attention.

 

If he had his way there would be long nights spent finding how far he could push George just playing with his chest.

 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” George huffed under his breath. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man that was making his head spin. “Should’ve done this the first day. I would’ve dropped to my knees right there in the fucking grass for you if I’d known you could ever want this, Joe. Swear I would’ve.”

 

George started sucking in noisy breaths as his balls drew up and that familiar tug started up behind his belly button. He pushed himself down to lay fully on the seat and finally touched Joe, his fear of breaking the moment far gone. It was freeing to spread out and grab at his shoulders, dark hair catching between his fingers. He couldn’t shut his mouth for anything and embarrassing words threaded between the shameless moans.

 

“Wait, Joe, wait!” George babbled, pawing at his back. “I can’t last. Fuck, I’m-”

 

Joe pulled off with a wet _pop_ , smirking up at the man’s flushed face. George was chewing at his lower lip and looking adorably close to coming. He was gorgeous in his desperation. He couldn’t deny him anything. “Whenever you want.”

 

“Can…?” George’s gaze flicked between his mouth and his own cock.

 

“You better not come anywhere else,” Joe growled before taking him back in his mouth. It was a slick slide all the way down and tight curls brushed his nose, fingers digging tight into squirming hips. Once George settled down a little he started letting him move but only at _his_ pace. He kept his tongue and lips tight on his cock and could feel the pulse. He slipped a hand down to cup his balls and knew he was going to come any second.

 

Joe pressed at the sensitive spot just behind his balls and all the tension in George’s body came loose. The noise that spilled out of George was better than any porn or jerkoff fantasy. Joe never could’ve dreamed off the high pitched, choked whimper and he had to reach down to squeeze himself through his jeans just to cope. He felt the hot gush at the back of his tongue and swallowed, keeping it slow and firm to draw out the man’s pleasure.

  
George shuddered against the seat. “ _Joe_. Fuck, fuck…”

 

Joe warmed his cock as he came down from his high. He pet along George’s thighs and hummed around his softening dick just to make him shiver one last time. The starchy, bitter flavor was familiar but he didn’t mind it. He wouldn’t say it but he kind of liked it, liked knowing what he’d done and how he’d reduced George to this mewling thing. Joe was careful as he pulled away, cleaning him up with soft licks that had his thighs twitching.

 

“That’s it, you’re okay,” Joe murmured as he dropped kisses along the faint lines of his hip bones, loving on him gently with broad sweeps of his palms. “So good for me, Georgie. So fucking pretty.”

 

George was so warm and supple he was practically glowing. Joe drank in the sight of him and nosed at his stomach, pressing chaste kisses there. Without all those delicious noises bouncing around the cab it was strangely quiet. Silence could breed doubt and he felt the first hint of worry as George caught his breath.

 

“You killed me, asshole,” George muttered, smiling and sounding delightedly ruined. He tugged at Joe’s shirt. “Get up here.”

 

Joe happily crawled up and got caught in a kiss. George could taste himself on the man’s tongue and he moaned, fingers curling possessively in his collar and pushing close. He raked his nails along Joe’s lower back and urged him between his still-trembling thighs. The rough scrape of denim only made the silken ripples of pleasure that much more intense.

 

Joe’s teeth scraped against his tongue, threatening to catch his lips, and he gathered his strength enough to push back. “Let me return the favor.”

 

“You want this?” Joe rasped. He pushed up between George’s legs and he hissed as covered cock met his thigh. George nodded quickly and he dove back in for a filthy kiss. Everything about the reporter was so bold all the way down to the way he licked into his mouth, claiming it like it was already his. That confidence turned him on something fierce. “You’re a sexy fuck. Anyone ever told you that?”

 

George snorted in disbelief. “Usually they just shove my head between their legs so I shut up.”

 

“Hey,” Joe said softly, finger gliding along his jaw. He tilted his head up just a bit so their eyes met. They simply stared at one another, a whole conversation passing between dark eyes. “You don’t gotta’ if you don't want to.”

 

“I do,” George promised as he tugged on his belt. The thoughtfulness made him want Joe all over again. He used his grip to push him backward, throwing him back so hard he hit the driver side door. Joe gaped at him, blinking owlishly in disbelief as George snickered and tugged his underwear back on to keep from any friction burn.

 

“You gonna’ be good for me, Joe?”

 

Joe nodded dumbly, still braced against the door. George’s spent cock throbbed as Joe’s legs fell open for him.

 

“Take off your belt.”  
  


Joe’s hands flew to the buckle and fumbled to work the leather open.

 

“Ah, ah - _slower_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoulda left a note, asshole

George was in a fuzzy headed bliss all into the next morning. He woke up smiling and remembering Joe Toye’s touch even as his phone kept ringing. He sighed and rolled onto his belly, grinning at the ache on his hip where little red fingerprints lingered. He plucked up his phone and yawned into it as a way of greeting.

 

His comfortable bubbled popped with the harsh sting of reality.

  
“ _I need you back right now,_ ” his boss snapped in his ear. He sat up, wild hair bouncing and sheets flying off to the floor. “ _I’ve got a story and everyone’s out on assignment. I don’t trust anyone but you with this, kid. I booked you on the next flight back. You board in three hours._ ”

 

“Three hours?” George echoed dumbly as he tried to shake the sleepy cobwebs from his head. “Shit, sir, I’m not sure I can-”

 

“ _Do it, Luz. You want that desk? Bring me back that humanitarian piece and get your ass back here to cover what I need you to. You want to prove yourself? Now’s the time, kid. Can I count on you?_ ”

 

George looked at the clock and knew immediately no one would be home. For a moment he was truly speechless. He heard himself speaking before he’d really decided what to do. “I’ll be on that flight. You can count on me, sir.”

 

George hung up and realized there was no time to do anything but pack and call a cab to the airport. He started to move on autopilot, barely listening to company as they told him when his cab would be there. He folded all his things neatly and got his toiletries out of the bathroom with precise movements. As he put away his tapes and notes his stomach churned into knots. He was sick to death about leaving like this but he had to hurry. Shifty said most of the hands would be out all morning but he’d wanted to say goodbye properly. He thought he’d had more time.

 

He’d call when he was back in the city but right now he needed to book it, especially if he was going to have a long goodbye with Joe. But that dream was popped just as sharply when he went down to the kitchen with his bag and found a note on the counter. It was in Shifty’s beautiful cursive saying how he and Joe needed to go pick up a horse a few towns away and wouldn’t be back until late that night.

 

‘ _There’s plenty of sandwich food in the fridge and I hid some cookies in the oven for you. We’ll see you in time for dinner._ ’

 

“Love Shifty,” George read aloud. He set it down and looked between the clock and his suitcase. He didn’t want Joe to think it was just a fling between them, whatever it was. They’d done little more than kiss and part way last night after their moment in the truck. It had been tender and sweet. It was something he’d remember for the rest of his life.

 

George shook his head and picked up his luggage. He had to go, he didn’t have time to linger. He was cutting it close as it was. He had a job to do and he wasn’t going to risk a permanent position at New York Times for this. He’d call, he’d come back, this wasn’t the end. It was just a brief, rushed goodbye.

 

When George arrived at the airport and was rushing to find his gate, it occurred to him he should’ve left a note.

 

o0o0o0o

 

Feeling a little too chickenshit to call the main house itself, George rang up the number Eugene gave him for Runner’s motel. He managed to get ahold of his friend and sighed in relief, fingers stilling on the keys of his computer. “Gene? Thank Christ. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

 

“ _I didn’t expect to hear from you._ ”

 

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy tone, princess,” George bit out around his cigarette, smoke pouring from his lips. “A story came up and my boss wanted me for it. I had to leave in a hurry and everyone was out of the house.”

 

“ _You left so fast_ ,” Eugene pouted over the line. “ _I didn’t get to see you much. And you really rubbed Mr. Toye the wrong way. He’s been so moody since you left. Mer says he’s unbearable._ ”

 

“Shit,” George cursed, staring at what little he’d typed out. “I meant to call sooner...he wasn’t home when I had to leave.”

 

“ _You didn’t even leave a note_ ,” Eugene accused.

 

“I didn’t even leave a note,” George sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Gene, I’m still caught up right now but could you...I don’t know. Could you tell Joe I didn’t mean to run off on him?”

 

" _I think you should tell him yourself,_ ” Eugene insisted. “ _I don't know what happened between you two, George, but he’s genuinely hurt. Even I can see it_.”

 

“Ah shit.” George rubbed his palm into his forehead and screwed his eyes shut. “Just tell him I’m sorry at least?”

 

“ _I’ll tell him whatever you want but he’s not going to listen to me. He needs to hear it from you himself_.”

 

George stubbed out his cigarette and got up to fetch his wallet. He was going to need coffee and another pack of smokes for the all-nighter he was going to suffer through. “Fine. I’ll be up there as soon as I can. Do whatever damage control you can and I’ll see you in a week.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe watched the piglets play around their tired mother. His hands went white around the fence and his jaw had been clenched so long his teeth ached. He was sure he was glaring but he couldn’t make himself walk away after feeding them. They were good little pigs but when he looked at them all he could remember was that day he’d shown the runt to George. The man had crooned down at it, how he’d pet the little one and kissed the top of its head.

 

He’d never forget George’s laugh and it was eating him up inside.

 

“It’s not their fault your boyfriend left.”

 

Joe shook himself out of his daze and shot a glare at the hand leaning against the other side of the fence. Malark’s face was pinched up in concern and there were two livid hickies peeking out from under his flannel. His stomach twisted up with something ugly just looking at them. “What the fuck would you know? You’ve got ass to spare.”

 

Malark sucked his teeth. “So is that where we’re at, Joe? Taking potshots at my relationship? That’s pretty low.”

 

Joe crumbled under the stern look. His shoulders sagged and he dropped down to rest his chin on his folded arms. “Sorry, Mal. You know I didn’t mean that. I’m just…”

 

“I know,” Malark soothed.

 

“He didn’t even leave a note,” Joe muttered. It was a phrase that kept circling around the ranch but it still rang true. “No calls. Nothing.”

 

“Gene said he had to leave in a hurry.” Malark was just parroting Shifty now. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from the hands, from Chuck, even from Dick though he’d never met the reporter officially.

 

“Still.” He dug his chin into his arms, eyes falling to the runt he’d shown George. “He’s an asshole.”

 

“And yet,” Malark trailed off pointedly. Joe shot him a glare but the smug smile stayed. “Yeah, I’m going to say it. And _yet_ \- you’re in love with him.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Whatever, man. You’re the one fucked up over a city kid.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

Breakfast was tense. If Shifty was honest, most of their meals had been tense. He couldn’t be upset with Joe even if he wanted to be. Joe was his best friend in the whole world and they knew each other’s moods, their quirks, but it didn’t take years of closely working together for someone to tell Joe was upset about George’s abrupt departure. It had been a few weeks but not nearly enough to get over someone so bright, so charismatic, so absolutely captivating.

 

Shifty hadn’t seen his friend truly interested in someone since they bought the ranch. He’d never seen Joe nursing an aching heart but now the sight of it was across his dinner table. Joe wasn’t being surly toward him in particular but he heard how he snapped at the hands, their friends, and saw the constant slouch in his shoulders. It was rejection, plain and simple, but Shifty was trying his best to push them back together.

 

But George was busy and Joe was a stubborn mule. Thankfully Shifty had subscribed to the New York Times just in time.

 

“You’re still torn up about George,” Shifty mused out loud as he watched the man pick at his eggs, the paper below his own coffee mug.

 

“Shut up,” Joe grunted, spearing a potato out of spite.

 

“He called and said he was sorry,” Shifty offered gently.

 

“Fuck his sorry,” Joe growled. He could hear the heartbreak below the anger and it tore Shifty to ribbons. “He didn’t call _us_.”

 

“Call _you_ ,” Shifty corrected, knowing that’s where the hurt laid. “What did you two get up to in your pick up?”

 

That finally got Joe to look up at him, though there was a harsh shadow in his eyes. “None of your Goddamn business is what.”

 

Shifty threw up his hands in surrender. “Fair! It’s your business. Just thought you’d want to know what he wrote about us.”

 

Joe’s gaze flicked to the paper. “Yeah? What’d he fucking say?”

 

“Why don’t you read it?”

 

Joe scoffed and went back to his food, breaking his bacon apart a little too aggressively for it to be casual. Shifty moved his mug and took up the paper, clearing his throat as he sorted through it. He pulled out the section he wanted with a smile. “Front page of the Living section. That’s pretty good.”

 

Joe made a noncommittal noise but he wasn’t storming off so he took it as a small victory.

 

“He wrote a lot of lovely things about what ‘kind-hearted, genuine people’ we are and what good work we do here. There’s some quotes from the people we’ve worked with, all good things,” Shifty skimmed. “He said our town is ‘quaint, sweet, harkens back to a simpler time.’ Lots of good words here, Joe. Friendly, dedicated, there’s even a couple pictures. Take a look.”

 

Joe craned his neck just enough to see the paper when Shifty slid it his way. There was a picture of Shifty smiling brightly at the camera, waving while the other arm was wrapped around a mare. Joe saw a picture of himself he didn’t recognize. It was him with one of the small colts helping them stand. He was concentrating but there was a small smile on his own face as he encouraged it. There was a flattering wide shot of their ranch and another of a bunch of their friends by a section of fence.

 

“Do you know how many emails we already have?” Shifty asked eagerly. “Tons! Including some for benefactors who’ve offered to donate supplies and a couple high web hosting companies who want to give us a real website for free. They’ll send someone to set it up and everything.”

 

Joe pushed it away and ignored the twinge in his chest. “Shit.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

It was three months before George could get away from the city and back to the ranch. He paid off the cab and drank his fill of the tranquil scene. The sun was threatening to kiss the horizon and the light had started to turn pink around the edges. The shadows of the ranch grew long and he could see a couple people around the porch. Shifty, Skip, Penk, Malark, even Eugene perched on Snafu’s lap. And though George had half hoped for a few moments to prepare, to get a few minutes to talk with Shifty and prepare to see the man he came here for, it was not to be.

 

Joe was leaning against the porch railing staring him down.

 

George tried to smile as he walked up and he hoped it didn’t come off as a grimace. He didn’t know if he’d be welcome and he’d been too afraid to call and ask. After the article had been published he’d gotten a huge response from others and had given them Shifty’s number, the address, letting them make their donations and offer services but never directly calling himself. He’d been a coward and he prayed it wasn’t too late to patch things up. “Uh, hey guys.”

 

“George fuckin’ Luz!” Joe called, a grin breaking out across his face. He slapped the banister and started down the porch, making a beeline for him. Though Shifty and Eugene were smiling, the other hands weren’t giving anything away. George felt a cold sweat break out across his nape and he hoped he wasn’t about to get punched.

 

“Hey, Joe,” George greeted lamely and taking a step back. “Listen, I wanted to say I’m sorry for the last time I was here. I got called in ASAP for this environmental riot and it was this whole thing with tear gas and a God damn mess. I should’ve left a note, I wanted to call, but - fuck, Joe, I’m just - I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got caught up and-”

 

George yelped as he was grabbed by lapels and walked backward on pure strength. His dress shoes skittered uselessly in the gravel as he tried to keep up but Joe’s wicked smirk stole all the breath from his lungs. When he tried to speak, to keep apologizing, he could smell Joe again. There was nothing in the world like it. Hay, sweat, sandalwood, and some kind of warmth that only came from being in the outside all day - it made him dizzy.

 

George’s back smacked off the pick up truck and he would’ve bitched about it if those wide palmed hands hadn’t come up and cradled his face. His jaw was swallowed in the calloused cradle of his fingers and the world grew small as Joe’s mouth slanted across his own. There was no finesse to it, no skill, just startled breaths and chapped lips and _passion_. He could taste Joe’s relief as the man licked between his lips and he moaned, the sound tickling between them. Joe pinned him with his broad body and his sheer presence but George couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His nails scratched through dark hair and down his nape, digging into muscle and leaving claiming crescents in the sun baked skin.

 

They parted to pant into each other’s mouths but their foreheads pressed tight together, eyes finally opening to search for the sincerity within the other. George’s mouth was stinging and he could feel tingles all the way down to his toes. He was caged in by Joe and there was nowhere else he’d thought of in all their time apart.

 

“Just glad you came back,” Joe whispered, thumbing gently at his temple.

 

“Nowhere else I’ve wanted to be.”

 

Ignoring the wolf whistles and cat calls from the porch, George tugged Joe back into another kiss.

 

o0o

 

The night sky stretched out for miles above them. The moon was halved and it gave the stars room to properly breathe and shine. The bed of the truck had been lined with old throw blankets and on top of those were thicker, comfier blankets that cushioned them from the unforgiving plastic. They had bunched up the comforter into makeshift pillows as they lounged. The breeze picked up and ruffled George’s hair as sweat and cum cooled on their skin.

 

They caught their breaths spread out on their backs side by side, watching the stars with matching smiles that made their cheeks hurt.

 

“Thanks for writing something so good about us,” Joe thanked quietly, his hand skirting by the sheet haphazardly draped across their hips to find George’s palm.

 

“You guys are doing great stuff here,” George replied, still sex-dumb as he laced their fingers together. “Has the article helped?”

 

“You bet your fine ass it did,” Joe shot back, getting a laugh out of the other. “We’re going to do a lot of good with all the donations and publicity. It’s only been a few months and we’ve got horses and sheep coming in from all over the country instead of getting put down. We’re going to find them a lot of good homes.” He rolled his head toward George and his smile gentled into something that tugged right at his heart. “Thanks to you.”

 

“I was just the bullhorn. You guys are doing all the work.” George hoped he wasn’t blushing too obviously. He preened under the man’s attention. He’d gone so long thinking their time together before was all he’d ever get and now it seemed endless. Joe sounded so grateful and he hate that it planted a doubtful thought he hadn’t considered before. He tried to brush it off but Joe raised their hands up to kiss the back of his own and the words just came tumbling out. “You’re not just, uh...doing this as a thank you or something right?”

 

Joe looked absolutely blindsided and he would’ve felt bad if there wasn’t already some hurt biting into his heart. Joe pushed up and rolled over to press into his side, bodies slotting together. George sighed as the man cradled his jaw in his palm and searched his face for something he wasn’t sure of. Whatever it was he seemed to find it and he scoffed before dropping down to kiss him.

 

It was much more gentle than the biting kisses they’d exchanged when they were fucking. The tension melted out of George’s shoulders and he let himself go lax under the man.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this since you stepped on our property,” Joe confessed, their noses brushing sweetly. “This isn’t fucked up gratitude. This is just…”

 

The breeze took a chilly turn and goosebumps cropped up all over George’s skin. He made a noise and shivered beneath the thin sheet. Joe grabbed one of the thicker blankets and dragged it up around them both. Joe dropped back down to the blankets and tucked him up against him protectively. George bit back another moan as all that warm skin pressed up against him. He wouldn’t deny being a cuddler and snuggling up with Joe Toye sounded like the best fucking idea since he discovered the ranch.

 

“I got you, Georgie.”


End file.
